


Blood Blooms

by Chocolatte16



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatte16/pseuds/Chocolatte16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demons have crawled out of Hells Below, an underground city where they lived, lost and forgotten, for many centuries. They rose to the surface, seizing control of the entire planet in a nearly bloodless though tough and drawn-out war. But it isn't all bad; in fact, crime rates are down, violence has vanished from the conquered cities and the laws are fair. Not only this, but demons are highly compatible with humans, to a point where they have one who is their 'destined'; a soulmate. </p><p> </p><p>Luhan, a demon, meets Sehun at the bakery where the human works and instantly knows its him, but Sehun is confused, frightened and unsure about the whole incident, even if he did feel something. Inter-species relationships are the norm, yet Sehan is hesitant, and Luhan still has the darker, animalistic side of his nature to contend with, despite the fundemantal good in all his kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't get too close  
> It's dark inside  
> It's where my demons hide  
> It's where my demons hide
> 
> They say it's what you makep  
> I say it's up to fate  
> It's woven in my soul
> 
> -Demons by Imagine Dragons

Two figures walk up the hilled street; Luhan, the blonde, with his curly hair and neatly flicked fringe and the other, Xiumin, the short haired brunet, with his constantly pleased expression and eager smile. They bump shoulders companionably with pleasant banter tossed between them, an aura of demonic presence surrounding them. A gust of cold winter wind brushes past the friends and their laughter catches on the breeze. Their breath forms ghostly clouds in the frigid air as they tug their scarfs tighter around their necks and pull their sleeves further down their arms. 

 

Houses, apartments, and leaf bare trees heavy with fresh snow mostly line the road they travel, but the pair reach a small establishment; an inviting home turned bakery, with a rich golden-red light, flickering like a fire in the hearth from it's windows, and by gods if it didn't looking temptingly perfect. The demons stroll down the garden path, passing empty wire tables and chairs scattered across the lawn and the veranda. Luhan’s hands are stuffed into his jacket pockets while Xiumin rubs his together and blows hot air onto the chilled fingers, and it is jokingly suggested that they hold hands to warm up, which is followed by deep, humorous laughter. Their boots crunch fading autumn leaves underfoot before meeting stairs and the wood of the porch, the chime of a bell sounding as Xiumin swings open the door.

 

A hush falls across Luhan and Xiumin as they enter the small but cosy bakery, their friendly teasing ceasing and the last of their laughs comfortably trailing off as the smell of cinnamon, butter and fresh bread overtakes their senses. They stand in the doorway for several stretched out moments, coiled by the comely smell and sense of home and warmth. The chatter of the regular customers’ cuts through their haze and Luhan quickly leads them to a vacant table off to the side, away from the hustle and bustle and idle gossip of others. They happily toss a coin to decide who would be paying this time for lunch, Luhan coming up short.

 

With Xiumin’s order in mind, he trudges over to the counter in a mock sulk, throwing an exaggerated pout over his shoulder at his friend. Tugging his wallet from his jean pockets as he reaches the beginning of the line, Luhan begins rattling off their lunch choices,  _flat mochaccino, ham and cheese croissant..._ and getting hold of a few notes, looks up to the server, only to stop right in his tracks, words cutting off mid-sentence, the rest unsaid and temporarily forgotten.

 

His heart catches in his throat and Luhan openly stares because standing before him is all he’s ever wanted but had always been denied; with his chocolate brown eyes, large and innocent, dark brown hair and young face, there is Luhan’s destined, the other half of his soul and the most gorgeous human he has ever and will ever see. He is perfect, and Luhan can’t look away,  _won’t_  look away, because he is over come with an intense desire, a want, a physical  _need_ , and it spreads throughout every fibre of his being. The longer he stares, the faster his pulse becomes, the more he wishes to hold this man flush against his body, even now, with onlookers, because how can the demon not?  The connection is there; strong, insistent, demanding to be felt, and above all unlike anything Luhan has experienced before. It wills him closer and Luhan is sure the human feels it also, as his russet eyes widen (in surprise? Recognition?), though Luhan quickly realizes it is because of his constant and likely unsettling staring. Mildly startled by that thought, he figures he must appear ridiculous or at least awkwardly amazed to the other. And his heart plummets.

 

The server (Sehun, Luhan guesses from the name tag) nervously fidgets underneath his penetrating gaze. “Sir?” He asks, with a voice like fresh honey, eyebrows raised in question and pen poised at the ready to scribble down the remainder of the food order, if Luhan ever decides to open his mouth and freely give it. “Um, right, yeah...I’ll take a coke and a chocolate Danish, thanks,” He hurriedly finishes and hands over the correct amount of money, collecting the cold coke and table number as they are passed over the counter. Luhan accepts the change without another word, ignoring the jolt of electricity that ripples through his very veins as Sehun’s fingers briefly brush his, and ignoring the way his skin tingles with the memory. A quick ‘thank you’ is given before Luhan is rushing back to his table as fast as is social acceptable, practically buzzing with...what? Excitement? Undeniable attraction? The bitter-sweet pangs of rejection? (A little dramatic, he’ll agree)

 

Perhaps it is none of those at all, or maybe all of them at once; a dreadfully amazing concoction of emotions. He didn’t know nor did he want to linger on the thought long enough to find out.

 

Luhan twists through the seemingly unending maze of tables and customers and distractedly slides into the chair opposite Xiumin, who had begun occupying himself by tapping out rhythms on the vintage wooden table. “Take your sweet time,” The brunet jokes light-heartedly when noticing him return, clearly not sensing anything amiss, at least not yet.  

“Sorry, there was...a long line,” Luhan murmurs, placing the can on the table and diverting his attention to the drops of condensation dripping slowly down its smooth metal sides, apparently mesmerized by the tiny rivulets.  

“Didn’t look like it from here,” Xiumin comments, appearing mildly confused with an eyebrow quirked as he glances in the direction of the counter.

“Slow service,” Luhan says simply, not bothering to look up at his friend as he fingers the water droplets and dismisses his suspicions.

The other glances over to the counter again, “But everyone who was behind you has already been served?” Xiumin continues, a questioning lilt to his words; the demon puzzled and a little intrigued at Luhan’s response and his complete change of demeanour. “Just leave it, okay?” Luhan swiftly puts an end to Xiumin’s insistence, drawing his attention away from the coke and running a hand coarsely through his pale hair.

 

“Uh, sorry man,  I didn’t mean anything by it,” Xiumin apologized, slumping back in his chair now that Luhan’s attitude had become glaringly apparent to him. He didn’t push the matter any further, knowing full well how temperamental demons could be at times, Luhan especially, and the matter is dropped and forgotten entirely when Xiumin’s coffee is brought to the table, along with their baked pastries, and forced smiles breach their faces.  

 

\- - -

 

After they’ve eaten, Luhan reluctantly leaves; unwilling even though Sehun had miraculously squirreled himself out of sight for most of his lunch outing. He walks with Xiumin to his apartment complex, his mood considerably lightening. His friends appears thankful for it, but definitely not surprised by it. Luhan's moods often change at the drop of a hat.

 

The trip is short, the conversation light, both easily slotting back into their comfortable routine, and before long Luhan parts Xiumin at his door, smiling pleasantly with a brief goodbye and humble ‘thanks for lunch’, a friendly high-five turned handshake tossed into the mix for good measure.

 

And if Xiumin held any qualms over Luhan’s sudden mood swing, he refuses to voice it before he disappears into the soft comforts of his two bedroom apartment, leaving Luhan to feel extremely grateful and relieved on the other side of the closed entryway.

 

\- - -

 

Luhan stands on the front terrace of the bakery, unmoving, hesitant, his hand hovering over the doorknob, shaking with a nearly imperceivable tremor. The midday crowd has dissipated, the stragglers all but gone, and Luhan will argue that he hadn’t intended to end up back there at all, but even he can admit that somewhere, in the deep recess of his mind, he really had meant to.

 

He grips the knob, twists until the faint click and pulls the door open, slowly and cautiously, the copper bell tinkling from its fixed place above him. Warned of his arrival, an employee Luhan doesn’t recognize from earlier glances up from their sweeping duties in the corner, but promptly dismisses him, continuing to brush dust from the floorboards. They aren’t closed, only preparing for shut down, and won’t turn away a paying customer.

 

Luhan takes a small step across the threshold, leather boots creaking the ancient wooden floors, the door shutting with a muted thunk behind him. Movement and organised rattling echoes from behind one of the near empty bread trolleys and Luhan distractedly turns towards it, seeing Sehun step out from the side, aware of the potential purchase and added company.

 

But the welcome is far from the one the demon had anticipated, and miles from one he would openly accept, with the human scurrying into the store room upon recognising Luhan from their previous encounter, not bothering with subtly.

 

He falters at first, unsure of how to react, his head muddled and not allowed time to contemplate his next move. “Hey...Hey! Wait!” Luhan calls after him, bounding across the space, forcefully shoving chairs from the course of his path before rashly ducking behind the counter and darting into the backroom. He’s bigger, if only marginally, he’s stronger, taller and far quicker, and Sehan makes the mistake of limiting himself to a room with four solid walls and the only exit blocked by a superior Luhan, effectively leaving the human cornered and trapped. Sehan didn't see Luhan as a threat, only as a man striving to make him as uncomfortable as possible, but he notices the distinctly wild look in the demon’s dark, dark eyes and suddenly regrets his decision to run, marking himself as prey to be caught and devoured. Sehan retreats and cowers in the furtherest crevice, the dark found there masking most of his delicate features, yet his wide chocolates eyes stare right out to Luhan as he shuffles ever closer. Imposing on Sehan’s personal space, Luhan roughly grasps his scrawny wrists, as fragile as twigs in his hands, and roughly crowds him against the wall, his fingernails biting red half-moon crescents into Sehan’s luminescent skin. And Sehan fights against his aggressive hold, but to no avail.

 

“Did you feel it?” Luhan whispers, his voice deep and ominous and ordering in its quiet. Sehan seems momentarily confused, flickering between horribly frightened and bewildered. “Did I feel...? Did I feel  _what?”_ He asks, timidly, barely there at all, and the innocence of it is utterly lost on the demon _._

“Did you feel it? The bond,” Luhan hisses, grip tightening painfully as he almost slams Sehan into the wall, his handsome features twisting awfully in his misplaced determination, the shadows of the storeroom defiling any good intentions. It is a look swiftly replaced with shock as Luhan is violently thrown off of Sehan smaller frame and, like a rag doll that he mostly certainly isn’t, tossed harshly to the cold, hard ground by two employees, who loom menacingly over the demon, as powerful as he doesn’t feel in that moment.    


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they dug your grave
> 
> And the masquerade
> 
> Will come calling out 
> 
> At the mess you've made
> 
> -Demons by Imagine Dragons

 

The early winter sun glimmers through the translucent bakery windows, the soft sunshine pooling on the tables and the oaken, polished floor. Sehun scrubs at the glass panels shielding the freshly baked bread, pastries and buns, his porcelain skin appearing paler in the morning’s gentle light, highlighting the deep purple hue of the bruises littering his wrists.

A spare rag resting on the cashier counter disappears and noticing, Sehun’s sweeping wipes across the clear surface slow before ceasing, his arms dropping to his sides. “You didn’t have to come in today,” A quiet, contemplative voice says over the humans shoulder. Sehun pauses before responding, carefully pulling at the rolled up sleeves of his uniform until the fabric covers the noticeable damage to his arms.

 

“I know Chanyeol, but I said I’m okay, and I am, so I can work,” He explains softly, tilting his head to give Chanyeol a reassuring smile, as small and forced and as tinged with sadness as it is. “Thank you for...” Sehun stops and bites his lip, considering the exact word he wants to use, “...restraining him yesterday,” he continues, averting his gaze, switching his focus from his co-worker to the disused cleaning cloth in his hands, fumbling with the dusty material. “You mean ‘Thank you for throwing him to the floor and tossing him to the curb’? You’re welcome,” Chanyeol grins proudly, haphazardly tossing an arm around Sehun’s narrow shoulders, clearly attempting to cheer his friend up. And this time Sehun allows him genuine smile. “Something like that,” He laughs quietly, playfully trying to push him away.

 

Another figure emerges, peeling Chanyeol off of Sehun, finger by finger, searching for emphasis rather than speed. Chanyeol groans dramatically, immediately knowing who it is. “Kris stoooop. I was having a moment with Sehun,” He whines, a mock pout plastered to his face as he turns to face the new comer. “Well...You can have a moment with _me_ now,” Kris, a mated demon and apprentice baker retaliates possessively. He smirks, an attractive curve forming on his lips and Chanyeol’s obstinacy vanishes as Kris ruffles the human’s unnaturally dyed hair. Using the human’s unnatural silence and daze to his advantage, Kris tugs on the elastic collar of Chanyeol’s work shirt until the other is tucked against his side and Kris drapes a possessive arm across around his waist. Chanyeol practically melts into the touch. 

 

“Do you have to do that?” Sehun interjects, rubbing at his neck awkwardly in their presence, and both glance distractedly in his direction, “Get a room, or at least take it elsewhere,” He jokingly scolds, his hand falling away as he shoos at them. Kris kisses Chanyeol’s temple.

 

“Come on, let’s leave him alone,” He says, his words laced with humour, and Sehun thanks him appreciatively, though the amusement is not lost on him. Kris leads Chanyeol away and returns to his own cleaning duties. The two separate and Kris shoots Sehun a teasing ‘Are you happy now?’ look, to which Sehun retorts with a thumbs up and pleased grin.

 

Abandoning his previous task of washing the glass, Sehun goes to retrieve a plastic box of washed and wet utensils, avoiding lingering in the storeroom for longer than strictly necessary.  It isn’t oppressive and doesn’t particularly scare him, but the room does unsettle him slightly, his body tensing and hairs on the back of his neck standing up, as though someone was breathing on it. He plants the box firmly down on the counter with an audible clink of silverware knocked together, running a clean rag along the length of a fork he picks up from the collection, repeating with another, and another, until a healthy pile stacks up to the side. “Uh, Sehun?” Kris calls, preoccupied by snooping out the window, the curtains pushed aside, and Sehun gives a questioning hum in response, signalling, at least, that he’d heard. “The asshole is waiting outside,” He states, and it stirs Chanyeol enough for him to join his mate in his prying.

 

“What?” Sehun asks, his voice lilting in disbelief and his brows furrowing together as he gives his co-worker his undivided attention.

“Yeah, just sitting there like he owns the place. The nerve- I’ll go teach him a few things about overstepping his boundaries,” Kris growls, no longer peering out through the gap in the curtain, but storming towards the entrance. “Thought I did a good enough job of that yesterday,” He mutters angrily under his breath, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles threateningly.

Sehun’s pulse spikes and before he fully realises what he’s doing, he hastily interrupts with, “Don’t Kris, its fine. I’ll deal with it,” and the demon stops, albeit unwillingly, in his tracks.  Unceremoniously shoving his cloth into the tied cord of his apron, Sehun rushes to meet an unmoving but peeved Kris at the door.

“I’ll go out there, give him a piece of my mind, and he’ll never bother you again. I’ve got this,” Kris assures through gritted teeth, his hands balled into fist with confined anger. Sehun knew it wouldn’t be released upon him, yet it was still frightening standing in its course. The human gently guides a begrudging Kris away.

“I want to reason with him, we don’t need to go as far as confronting him like that,” Sehun argues pleadingly, standing his ground.

“What if he hurts you again?”

“He won’t. He’s guilty. Wouldn’t you be if you lashed out at Chanyeol?” 

“He’s not- Sehun, you’re not his mate,”

“What if I am?”

“Then it’s not your problem,”

“It is. And I’ll deal with it,” Sehun says sternly, and it’s such a rare occurrence that Kris backs down, silently dazed, and, giving in, slinks back to Chanyeol like a wounded puppy. Sehun’s expression softens, and he looks apologetic but Kris has already turned away to return to mundane task of cleaning, seemingly unaffected.  The tense hunch of his shoulders and Chanyeol’s instant fussing over him suggests otherwise.

 

Sehun’s lips flatten into a line as he attempts to ignore the small pangs of guilt piercing his chest as he opens the bakery door with an ancient creak of rusted hinges before stepping out, silently and warily closing it behind him. He reaches up to quieten the tinkling of the welcome bell as it rings out. The blonde demon looks up from his position at one of the wire cafe tables, hurriedly rising to his feet when he notices that the employee is Sehun, his face practically lighting up.

 

He’s as tall and arresting as he appeared yesterday, yet starkly different from the imposing figure that had loomed over the human, emanating power and pain. And that is the resurfacing guilt towards Kris and the remembrance of hurt and fear Sehun’s feeling, nothing else. At least what’s what he tells himself in an unconvincing mantra as tiny butterflies take flight in his stomach and the breath is wisped from his lungs. A senstation of fierce warmth floods his body; a feeling that is ever insistent when this man is present. “What are you doing here?” Sehun asks, keeping his expression stony and vacant, though he detects a small tremor in his voice and he hopes the other cannot hear it from across the courtyard.

 

“Sitting...waiting,” The demon says casually but quietly all the same, shrugging his shoulders and slowly making his way to the porch, his movements cautious and nonthreatening, approaching Sehun as though he is a wild animal that is easily spooked. 

“For what?” Sehun continues to question, tilting his head fractionally to the side.

“I think we both know the answer to that,”

“Tell me,”

“To buy bread,”

Sehun snorts, unbelieving and unamused, “Tell me the truth,” And this causes the other man to pause.

 “I’m afraid you won’t like the truth,” He admits seriously. And because Sehun does, if fact, know the truth; he also knows that he does not like it. Or perhaps he does. Perhaps he does take denied pleasure and delight in knowing that the demon is there for him in particular; waiting, ever so patiently. Plagued by guilt, driven by the need to apologise for his terrible actions, to make right what he’d made wrong of something so pure.

“Can I come in?” The demon’s resonate voice startles Sehun back into reality.

“Um, we don’t open for another 20 minutes,” He stammers, the serious edge he’d retained before ultimately gone as his mind automatically switches into worker mode.

“So that’s a no then?”

Sehun worries his lip in consideration, a keen sense of dread and anticipation washing over him like an intoxicating wave _. That is a no. Of course it’s a no. You...You assaulted me._  He can taste the words on the tip of his tongue but they never make it past his lips. It frustrates him to no end, yet he can’t bring himself to turn away the sulking blonde, whose very being tugs at his own. Instead Sehun tentatively unlocks the door, before standing aside to allow the demon through, suddenly finding his shoes terribly interesting.

The demon takes a few falsely confident strides forwards, coming to a stop in front of Sehun. He looks like he practically itches to say something; anything. But he moves on, stepping into the scene of the homely bakery.

Much to Kris’s immediate chagrin.

 


End file.
